In which Athos gets a little satisfaction, and Silas makes a decision.

Chapter Seven

That evening was the worst yet.

Any thoughts of possible escape he may have been harbouring left Silas when he crept back after dark, as Raymond and his thuggish brothers returned from another afternoon of drinking.

Silas had heard the men shouting and whooping earlier and had held his breath, waiting for the men to come out. When they didn't, he had walked quietly, with increasing trepidation, back to the barn and peered through a crack in the door. What he saw angered him so much he almost rushed inside, before catching himself. It would serve no purpose. He was a one-armed eighty year old man. They would only kill him and their prisoner. So he continued to watch and bear witness.

Raymond was sitting on an old bale of straw, gnawing at an apple and watching as his siblings drove Athos around the perimeter of the barn.

They had cut him loose, only to taunt him.

Athos walked with a straight back and if he slowed, one of the two men flicked a sword blade at his leg, hitting him above the top of his boots on his thigh. Each time, Athos hardly faltered but a steady, thin line of blood followed in his wake. Once more, the two younger men were laughing like children.

Silas looked back at Raymond. He was well out of the way when Athos passed him, but he had a pistol trained on him. So Athos kept walking; it must have been for one hour, maybe two. Raymond was now lounging back and looking bored, hardly participating, his eyes closing. They were all drunk and Silas hoped the ale would finally get the better of them and they would either fall asleep or go.

"You're a quiet one," Raymond called out, as he tracked Athos's slow approach toward him.

Athos raised his head and his eyes slid toward him. His did not respond, merely holding his gaze as he walked passed him. Raymond threw the apple core at his back as Athos walked on. Truth be told, he welcomed the movement, if he could just push the pain to the back of his mind. His thoughts turned to his brothers, who he knew by now, would be anxious for his return. Perhaps they would set out to the Baron's estates to start their enquiries. If that was the case, it would add two days to their search. He took in a shuddering breath. They would not know where to start to look. He could not find fault in that but it was a bleak thought.

Athos was too exhausted to try to get the better of any of them, as a further day of captivity was telling on him.

"No pleas for mercy, Athos?" Raymond persisted.

"I doubt you know what the word means," Athos replied, quietly.

Henri stuck his foot out suddenly, catching Athos as he passed. Drawing on his training, Athos twisted as he fell; falling on his back. Partly winded, he closed his eyes. Feigning unconsciousness would give him a few precious moments to recover.

As was their custom, they dowsed him with water whenever they punched him into oblivion. At those times, Athos had sometimes managed to get some of it down his throat before giving signs he had regained his senses, but he had not been given much food and so he was becoming weaker and weaker.

Approaching footsteps and the sloshing of water in the bucket heralded an imminent dowsing and he readied himself. The cold water shocked him into rolling onto his side, but he did manage to get a mouthful, which he swilled around his mouth and swallowed. His ribs screamed in protest as he was pulled roughly to his feet, trying desperately not to cough. He was shoved forward onto the circuit once more and staggered a few paces before regaining his balance. Short of pointing out what a pointless exercise this was for all of them, be squared his shoulders and continued to place one foot in front of the other.

He was now limping badly, as the younger brothers kept targetting his knee.

Outside, Silas closed his eyes as Athos faltered once more. Now, he would have blood loss to contend with. The leg of his breeches was already soaked with blood and Silas thought if they punched him one more time, his ribs may indeed break. He clenched his fist at his side and put his forehead to the rough timber of the barn as he breathed deeply, trying to think. What to do? What to do? Then, as he was about to burst in, he heard a commotion and looked up.

Athos, seeming to draw strength from somewhere, suddenly turned to his left and with a roar, he drove his shoulder into Henri's chest, sending them both crashing to the ground. Pinned under Athos's weight, Henri was powerless and Athos began to use his fists, pummelling his face and chest. Silas watched in satisfaction as a blow struck Henri on the bridge of his nose and he howled. It only lasted a few moments, before Raymond and Phillipe were galvanised into action. Both quickly sobered and surging forward, they dragged Athos off Henri, who was screaming obscenities and flailing his arms in an attempt to rise.

Silas brightened at the sight, before Phillipe managed to hold Athos from behind and Raymond brought his knee up into his stomach; effectively winding him. At the same time, he threw his fist at Athos's temple and they both let go, as Athos crashed to the ground. By this time, Henri had got unsteadily to his feet. With both hands holding his bleeding nose, he kicked Athos a final time. Athos would not feel that kick, however, as Silas saw that he was senseless. This time they did not throw water on him. They dragged him back to the post and tied him up once more.

Raymond grabbed Athos's hair and pulled his head back to peer at his slack face as Phillipe re-tied the rope around the back of the post. Satisfied, Raymond ordering his brothers out.

Silas slipped through the doors and back into the shadows of the barn as they all rode off.

There was still fight in the Musketeer, but time was running out.

There was only one option left for Silas.

He would walk the distance to the next village and seek help.

Hitching the water skin up on his shoulder, he pushed the barn doors open and made his faltering way into the vast, empty barn.

Amazingly, Athos raised his head.

"Silas?"

"Yes," the old man whispered, his voice infinitely sad.

His decision was made. Come what may, he would ensure he did his utmost now to find help. Before he went, though, he would share his secret. Something may eventually be salvaged from all this pointless chaos and brutality, but if it was not to be, at least he will have done his best.

Athos had shown nothing but honour, and by the soldier's code, he must do the same.

oOo

Later, when the Vachons couldn't find the old man, they went back into the barn. Pulling Athos to his feet, they slapped his face and asked where the old man had gone.

"How would I know?" Athos managed to growl. "I have not seen him since you shot the water barrel to pieces and then threatened to murder him."

"Raymond," Phillipe panicked, "We'd better get out of here. He can't have gone far. We can track him."

Raymond was still staring at Athos, who held his gaze defiantly, a look of utter boredom on his face.

He reached up and grabbed Athos's hair.

"No," he said to the brother at his back. "Let the old fool go. If he has any sense, he will be long gone."

He tilted his head to examine Athos's face further.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, tapping Athos's closed eye.

Wincing, Athos pulled his head back, but Raymond only tightened his hand in his hair.

"Having trouble seeing?" he continued, as he pulled a thin blade from his belt.

Athos watched him as he held the blade up.

"Maybe," Raymond said, "I should just take your eye."

"Do it," Henri said, his face bruised and his nose swollen from Athos's attack.

Raymond put the tip of the blade to the skin beneath his black, swollen eye.

Athos tensed, holding his breath, waiting for the terrible act.

But the knife disappeared and Raymond laughed, before putting the blade to Athos's ear and slicing his earlobe.

Athos's only response was the flare of his nostrils and tightening of his jaw muscles.

"No," Raymond hummed, watching in fascination as a trail of blood made its way down Athos's neck and under his shirt collar. "I will let you see your suffering."

Taking a thin scarf from around his throat, he thrust it between Athos's teeth and tied it tightly.

"String him up," he snarled, stepping back.

Athos's weak attempt to struggle did him no good, as he was freed briefly, only for his hands to be pulled above his head and his wrists tied to a cross bar, his feet now barely reaching the ground.

Athos realised he would have to take his full weight on his wrists when his strength finally left him. He was also even more vulnerable to whatever they wanted to do now. He closed his eyes and breathed as deeply as he could to calm his mind. If this was to be how he died, he would not give them the satisfaction of showing fear or uttering a plea for mercy, both of which he knew they expected. His chest burned with the stretched position of his shoulders. His knee throbbed from an earlier kick and he could not feel his left foot, no doubt due to blood loss from the numerous cuts to his thigh.

However, the fact that Silas had escaped them, and the secret he had imparted to Athos before he left, would keep his mind focussed. He was having difficulty concentrating though and could not remember how far the next village was, or even if he had come across another village on his way to this one. He had to hold on. That was all he had to do now. Hold on.

"That's better," Raymond said. "But, just in case," he added, gripping his hair once more, he slammed Athos's head back into the post.

Athos's head bounced off the wooden post with a sickening thud and his head fell forward, chin dropping to his chest. Raymond released his hair and reached up and patted his unconscious prisoner on the cheek.

"Now we go," Raymond said quietly to his two brothers.

"Or, we could kill him," Henri replied, drawing his sword.

"Kill a Musketeer?" Raymond replied. "That's treason," he sneered.

"He'll be dead soon enough," Henri said, with a low laugh.

Turning away, they walked out of the barn, mounted up, and rode away.

To be continued ...